


hang all the mistletoe

by nessismore



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Darcy/Steve Holiday Exchange, F/M, Failboats In Love, Mistletoe, Ridiculousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessismore/pseuds/nessismore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d hung up mistletoe everywhere at the Christmas party, hoping for a few laughs, maybe a minor scandal. But reducing an American icon to following a girl around like a lovesick puppy? That, he’d never expected. And it was glorious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hang all the mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erica_T](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erica_T/gifts).



> A pinch hit gift for erica_t, whose original author unfortunately had to drop out of the exchange.
> 
> Written for the prompt:
> 
> Tony tacks mistletoe everywhere, and Steve is actively trying to get a (who he thinks is unsuspecting) Darcy under it, only to have it backfire every time, until the last time, on Christmas Eve, and then it goes spectacularly right. 
> 
> I veered a bit from the prompt, but I hope you enjoy my take on it all the same!
> 
> Thanks so much to imogen_penn for beta'ing this for me!

It was, all things considered, turning out better than he possibly could have hoped for. He’d hung up mistletoe everywhere at the Christmas party, hoping for a few laughs, maybe a minor scandal. But reducing an American icon to following a girl around like a lovesick puppy? That, he’d never expected. And it was glorious.

There were more than a few people willing to take advantage of the mistletoe—and the open bar—case in point: the couple sucking face smack-dab in the middle of the room. If he hadn’t been watching the man try to feed his tongue to his kissing partner, Tony might have missed the fact that Steve was engrossed with something entirely different. Tony caught a glimpse of Steve was sitting directly across the room, staring intently. At first, Tony thought that Steve was staring at the kissing couple, too, but then he realized that Steve’s gaze angled more to the left, just beyond Tony’s shoulder.

The only people who really fell into Rogers’ line of sight were Pepper’s assistant, Darcy, and Tony’s newest scientist, Jane Foster. Since Tony was pretty sure Steve wasn’t planning on making a move on Thor’s girlfriend, he had to be looking at Darcy. So Tony watched Steve watch her for a moment, before Steve finally pushed to his feet.

He came barreling straight toward her—subtlety really wasn’t his forte. She was standing two feet away from one of the sprigs of mistletoe Tony had thrown around the room, and Steve had just reached her when one of the girls from the accounting department—he couldn’t remember her name—spotted the couple playing tonsil hockey in the middle of the room.

“Ivan, how could you!” she cried out. At her shout, everyone froze, including Steve, and stared at the couple, who’d sprung apart guiltily.

“I can explain!” the hapless Ivan blurted out. Yeah, that line had never worked for Tony. It didn’t look like it was going to help Ivan the Terrible, either.

Then a big, beefy, man pulled out in front of the crowd. “Holly, what the hell?” And there it was—the minor scandal Tony was hoping for. Which turned into a not-so-minor scuffle that Tony watched in glee. Steve, being the nice guy he was, got involved, separating the two combatants before too much physical damage could be done. But Ivan and Holly, the saps, got dumped right there for everyone to see.

Poor Steve, by the time he had everyone sorted out, Darcy was gone.

—

The next time Tony saw Steve, Steve was with Darcy, walking through the room. Tony did _not_ miss the fact that the path Steve was guiding her on lead directly to another sprig of mistletoe. By the looks of it, Darcy was telling a story, her arms waving to emphasize whatever point she was trying to make.

They stopped, right under the mistletoe. Darcy didn’t notice, either the kissing bough or Steve trying to screw up his courage. It looked like Steve was just going to lean in and lay one one her, but at the last minute, someone called Darcy’s name. She whirled around to see who was talking to her, and Steve was left kissing air. His momentum took him forward as he lost his balance.

Steve was a super soldier, an ideal human specimen, but apparently Darcy had him so off balance that he fell forward, landing on the ground with a thud. 

“Oh my God, are you okay?” she knelt by his side, fingers caressing over the spot where his head met the ground.

“Come on, Steve,” Tony muttered. “You can salvage this.”

Steve must have thought so, too, because he reached up to pull Darcy’s head down to his. Darcy, however, had different ideas.

“You hit your head pretty hard. Stay here, and I’ll go get you some ice, okay?”

Before he could agree one way or the other, Darcy rushed to her feet and hurried into the kitchen. Even from across the room, Tony could hear Steve’s frustrated curse.

—

You couldn’t keep a good hero down for long, apparently. Tony watched as Steve shrugged off the the concerned inquiries of some of the other guests (and several offers to kiss and make it better) and made a beeline for the kitchen. He didn’t go in, but snagged a piece of mistletoe from where it hung a few yards a way and hung it over the kitchen door.

And he waited.

And waited.

Finally the door swung open. Tony watched as Steve shot out an arm, catching the person exiting around the waist and pulling them to him.

Except it wasn’t Darcy.

Tony couldn’t hold in his laughter as Clint batted his eyes up at Steve and pretended to swoon.

“Why, Steve, I never realized you felt this way about me.”

Steve blushed and turned red. “I—sorry, Barton.” He let him go, but Clint shook his head.

“Oh no, you don’t.  There’s mistletoe.” Barton placed a loud, smacking kiss on Steve’s lips just as Darcy walked out, a full bag of ice in her hands.

“What’s going on?” Darcy asked, puzzled.

“Mistletoe,” was all Clint said as he sauntered away. Steve shrugged, but didn’t explain. He did let Darcy grab his hand and drag him over to a couch. She kept the ice pressed to Steve’s forehead—and, Tony noticed, herself close to Steve’s side.

“Kiss her, you idiot,” Tony urged quietly. That got a funny look from the two people passing on their way to the punch bowl—a brother and sister, if he recalled correctly. He gave them a charming smile and said, “Not you two.”

But Steve’s gaze flicked up to the ceiling, where he saw no mistletoe. Apparently, he couldn’t work up the courage to kiss her without it.

—

Tony tracked Darcy and Steve over to the giant Christmas tree dominating one side of the room. From what Tony could glean, Darcy seemed to think that Cap needed to lean on someone while walking, just in case he’d hit his head too hard. 

Bullshit. She just wanted him to wrap his arm around her. Tony had most definitely seen the looks that Darcy gave Steve when no one was looking. Girl was hot for him, no two ways around it. And Steve…well, apparently he wasn’t going to turn down a chance to stay close to Darcy.

Tony followed— _stealthily_ , if he did say so himself—and hovered around the area where Darcy and Steve stood, beside the tree.

Steve glanced up, something green catching his eye, and he smiled. 

“Darcy, look up,” he said.

Darcy did, and Tony laughed as she spotted the same green thing Steve had. “Oooh!” She stood on tiptoe to grab it, and admired the green bow stuck onto one of the fake presents adorning the garland on the wall. “Cool.” 

She leaned into Steve, grinning as she stuck it onto his forehead, careful to avoid the place where he’d hit his head. “Green is definitely your color,” she said with a laugh. Steve laughed along with her. “You’re not a half-bad present, Rogers.”

Steve smiled and looked down at her intently. And this was it, Tony thought. Steve had decided _to hell with mistletoe_ and he was gonna kiss Darcy right now.

Maybe he might have, if Darcy’s phone hadn’t rung. She pulled it out of her purse, face twisting in annoyance.

“It’s my mom. She and my little sister are always having one crisis or another with each other, and if I don’t take it, they might kill each other.” She peeked up at the bow on Steve’s forehead and grinned. “Don’t take that off.”

Steve didn’t.

—

Tony lost track of Steve after Darcy took her phone call, but he found them again half an hour later. Steve was standing by the balcony doors, which happened to be a land mine of mistletoe—and kissing couples. Maybe Steve thought it would get her in the mood. 

He still had the bow, shifted so it was on top rather than in the middle of his forehead. Tony could tell the exact moment Steve realized Darcy was coming towards him. Steve straightened, adjusted his tie, adjusted the bow, and wiped his palms on his slacks a time or ten. He lifted his hand in a wave, and Tony turned to see Darcy coming, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear and biting her lip nervously. 

These idiots. They just needed to kiss already so Tony could go back to the party. 

And they _would_ kiss, dammit, even if Tony had to smash their faces together himself. He was invested.

There were maybe ten feet separating Steve and Darcy when disaster struck.

Amalia, a pretty scientist from R&D swanned up to Steve, positioning him beneath the mistletoe. Tony liked her well enough, but she was ruining a moment.

“How nice of you to wait under the mistletoe for me,” she said, batting her eyelashes. Before Steve could pull away, Amalia wrapped herself around him and kissed Steve.

It was not PG.

Amalia writhed against him, and Tony even saw her tongue poking out, trying to pry Steve’s lips open like a crowbar. Despite Steve’s best efforts, he couldn’t seem to extricate himself from her hold. Not without a crowbar of his own, anyway. Good lord, this was embarrassing.

Tony chanced a look at Darcy, who stood frozen to the spot. He made his way over to her. This wasn’t exactly the drama he had in mind. Not for people he liked, anyway. “He doesn’t really want to kiss her, you know.”

Darcy scoffed, in sympathy or disgust, he wasn’t sure. “Anyone with eyes can see that.” A waiter passed with a tray of wine glasses, and Darcy picked up two. “If you’ll excuse me…”

Good Lord. There’d already been a fistfight. Was there gonna be a cat fight, too? Part of him hoped the answer was yes. The other, more mature part, understood that Darcy would wipe the floor with Amalia, and he didn’t want blood setting into the carpet. But when Darcy approached and she didn’t yank Amalia out of Steve’s arms or toss the contents of the wine at the girl, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

She merely cleared her throat. Her presence was enough to make Steve strengthen his efforts to get free, and finally, finally Amalia was on her feet and, more importantly, standing away from Steve.

Darcy thrust a glass of wine at her. “What’s this?” Amalia asked in confusion.

“Consolation prize,” Darcy said sweetly. “Run along.”

Well. Couldn’t get any clearer than that.

“Sorry,” Steve said, ever the gentleman. “I was waiting for _her_.”

Amalia still didn’t seem to get it. Tony, being the standup guy he was, led Amalia back to her group of friends. Then he hurried back to his post to watch the Darcy and Steve show, which continued with Darcy handing her glass of wine to Steve.

Steve downed it; Tony winced. That was…not so smooth.

“Thanks,” Steve said, “for this and for the rescue.”

“Anything for a friend, right?” Now that her rescue was complete, she was inexplicably shy.

“Right,” Steve said, equally unsure. “Thanks again.” They stood in silence, just staring at each other for a moment.

Tony wondered whether he was going to have to take matters into his own hands this time. 

But then, Steve placed his empty wine glass on a passing waiter’s tray and bent to pick the green bow that had fallen out of his hair. He stuck it on his hand, held it out to Darcy, and said, “This is for you. If you want it.”

“The bow?” Darcy asked, bemused, plucking the bow out of his hand and turning it over in her fingers.

“That. Or…me.” It was a terrible, terrible line, but the romantic in Tony sighed. A blush crept up Steve’s cheeks, but he soldiered on. “You did say I wouldn’t make a half bad present—“

Darcy threw herself into his arms, kissing him as enthusiastically as Amalia had tried to do. This time, however, Steve welcomed it, and he tightened his arms around her.

Darcy lifted her arms to twine behind Steve’s neck, and while her lips were still fused to his, she placed the bow back on his head.

A minute later, Steve was holding Darcy’s hand and leading her out to the balcony. Tony grinned and turned back to the party. His work here was done.


End file.
